


Homesick

by henriqua



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Drinking, Genderfluid Character, Getting Together, M/M, Rape scenes outside the pairings, Snapshots, kind of lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: Or how Yuri and Otabek found home in each other, told in (more or less) drunken snapshots throughout the year(s).





	Homesick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tokiyasstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokiyasstar/gifts).



> The songs the titles are taken from are linked in each part. Part I's title is translated by me.
> 
> This story is a gift to [Chel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokiyasstar). It's a small thank you for everything you've done for me in the past year. From the bottom of my heart: thank you.

[I - _In this bubble of ours, nothing changes_](https://open.spotify.com/track/6C4Ln9FcD2GXQ8QSUQpncZ)  
  
Otabek got a new program to create remixes with at the beginning of summer break. He couldn’t leave the house much because his parents were working and someone had to look after Angelika and the twins, so Yuri spent hours and hours laying on Otabek’s bed, listening to him learn how the program worked.  
  
Yuri busied himself with a game on his phone, breaking the comfortable silence between them only when something in the pieces Otabek worked on sounded either really good or really bad. Every time he said something Otabek looked at him over his shoulder and smiled.  
  
The same remixes Yuri knows like the back of his hand are playing loudly in the party Mila dragged him to. A girl Yuri knows has a crush on Otabek (she has never said anything, but Yuri isn’t _blind_ ) has squeezed herself between Mila and Otabek, her already short skirt riding up when she shifts on the couch to press her thigh even more against Otabek’s.  
  
For some reason the disgusting aftertaste of vodka burns on Yuri’s tongue worse than ever before. He curses Mila to the deepest pits of hell, because it is her fault Yuri even is at the party drinking the awful liquor - she had given Yuri an old top of hers, but only if he came to the party with her. The top is pretty, hot-pink and slightly cropped, and even though the fit could be better Yuri had thought it would be worth it.  
  
He realizes now, that he would rather be anywhere else than here - with or without the top.  
  
“Yuri, frown a little bit more and everyone will think you’re related to the lemon sliced in the punch,” Mila says and knocks their shoulders together. She’s holding two empty cups, heading to the kitchen to fill them up with the infamous punch. Yuri rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his bitter drink.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuri says with a faked smile. Mila snorts and opens her mouth to say something, but she’s interrupted by a choir of loud greetings coming from the front door. A group of Mila and Otabek’s classmates comes in, most of them carrying more drinks to put in the fridge and bathtub filled with ice even though all of them, excluding the designed driver, are more or less drunk.  
  
Yuri scoffs and turns on his heel to go to the kitchen for more vodka. He can take watching from the sidelines how the girl in a miniskirt openly flirts with Otabek and Mila’s teasing, but all that _and_ noisy, annoying upperclassmen? Not a chance before he’s had a couple of drinks more.  
  
Yuri’s drink is half-and-half of vodka and the cheapest soda he could find from the store. The alcohol burns and makes his eyes water, but at least he can’t taste the soda. Drinking the mix through a straw makes it easier to swallow, and the host of the party had gifted him a straw that matches the color of his top.  
  
When Yuri gets back to the living room, one of Mila and Otabek’s loud classmates shouts something about drinking games. Otabek doesn’t do drinking games, everybody knows that (he barely even does drinking). A guy with long hair tries to get him and the girl sitting next to him - a skinny arm around his shoulders, their hips squished together - to join in, but he declines politely. The girl, however, gives in after a little persuasion and gets up, settling herself between the long-haired guy and another guy, who looks like he won’t make it to the end of the game.  
  
She throws a smile and a wink to Otabek over her shoulder when the rules are being explained, and Yuri has to turn his eyes away.  
  
(She has long, golden hair and Yuri wants to ask how she does her eyeliner, because it’s damn near perfect - even and sharp.)  
  
“Yuri! C’mon, we’re starting,” Mila gushes, waving her arms around so much it’s a surprise her drink doesn’t spill on the people sitting on the floor.  
  
“I’ll pass,” Yuri answers. He’d rather sip on his drink and have a good laugh at the people playing the stupid game. He could get on the couch next to Otabek and laugh with him.  
  
“You came here because I asked, so it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re having fun,” Mila says and stands up. Yuri tries to run, but Mila is stronger (and faster) than him even when she’s the more intoxicated one. She sits Yuri down on the circle of people and throws an arm around his shoulders to make sure he won’t try to escape. “Just to loosen you up a little, y’know. Let people see that adorable smile of yours.”  
  
“Shut up, hag,” Yuri retorts, rolling his eyes when Mila and her classmates laugh.  
  
There’s also other familiar faces from school: most of them are upperclassmen, but Yuri recognizes some people from his own classes as well. Apart from Mila, he can’t really call anyone in the circle a friend - they’re acquaintances at best. He barely remembers anyone’s name.  
  
He kind of wishes that at the end of the night he won’t remember his own name, either.  
  
The game turns out to be some kind of Truth or Dare - Yuri doesn’t know how that’s supposed to work as a drinking game because he didn’t listen to the rules (honestly, he doesn’t even care). It won’t be his turn in a long time, so he concentrates on aimlessly going through the apps in his phone and taking sips of his drink.  
  
Every time he looks up from his phone to check whose turn is next, he catches the guy sitting right across him (one of Otabek and Mila’s classmates, if Yuri remembers correctly) stealing glances of him. Yuri is about to give him a bored stare and ask what his problem is when someone decides to talk over him.  
  
“Kiss Altin.”  
  
“I’m not even playing,” Otabek says from the couch, laughing. His body is relaxed against the backrest, not even a hint of panic flickering in his eyes.  
  
“Play along for this one time, we all know you want to.” The blond in a miniskirt rolls her eyes at the comment, blushing - either from the alcohol or the dare she was given to. Otabek shrugs and shifts on the couch, and Yuri wants to look away but he physically can’t do that.  
  
Otabek _wants_ to kiss her.  
  
Yuri watches with everyone else when the girl gets up and gently places her lips against Otabek’s - it doesn’t turn into a heated kiss, it’s just sweet and over in less than five seconds. They’re both smiling when it’s over, and people sitting on the floor cheer and whistle.  
  
Yuri empties his own cup when he knows no one is looking at him.  
  
“Gonna get another one,” he mumbles to Mila, all the vodka still burning in his throat. Mila just nods, still laughing and cheering with her classmates. Yuri leaves the game and manages to make it to the kitchen without walking into anything, the alcohol in his system suddenly getting to his head now that he’s on his feet.  
  
Yuri fills his cup with vodka and soda, but doesn’t take a drink. His world is spinning, and he leans his back against the fridge, the cup still in his hand. He doesn’t want to go back to the living room and show how badly the drinks are affecting him - he’s not supposed to be lightweight.  
  
From what he can hear, the game in the living room continues. People are laughing, talking loudly over each other, shrieking as someone is about to spill their drink. Yuri keeps his eyes closed when he brings his cup on his lips and takes a mouthful.  
  
Bitter.  
  
“How do you know Altin?” Yuri opens his eyes to see the guy who sat across him during the drinking game; the one he almost called out for staring. He’s leaning against the door frame, a cup of his own in his hand - he probably came for a re-fill as well.  
  
“We’re friends. Childhood friends,” Yuri says. It’s the simple answer. The _truthful_ answer. The boy hums and walks through the kitchen, his eyes still on Yuri.  
  
“Has he always been so popular?” The guy asks. He puts his cup on the kitchen table and reaches for the bowl of punch in the middle of it. He finally turns his eyes away, focusing on the booze.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, you know. Every guy in the school is lusting over Ava, and _he_ is the one she chooses.” Yuri snorts and takes a sip of his drink, trying to hide his amused expression behind the cup. The guy turns around, quirking an eyebrow. He doesn’t look angry or hurt, just curious.  
  
“Beka’s easy to like,” Yuri says, shrugging.  
  
“You’d know, wouldn’t you? He spends a lot of time with you,” the guy says, eyes studying Yuri over the rim of his cup. He takes a short drink and puts the cup back on the table.  
  
“We’re friends,” Yuri repeats himself, irritated. The guy doesn’t look or sound too drunk, but he’s definitely having some difficulties with processing what he’s told.  
  
“Just friends?” The underlying implications in the question hit Yuri completely sober for a moment. The guy tilts his head, making fun of the silence Yuri unwillingly creates between them. His eyes are piercing, the smiling corner of his mouth telling Yuri that he has already lost the battle and probably the whole war.  
  
Yuri nods slowly, his fingers cramping around his own plastic cup. “Yeah.”  
  
Yuri lets the guy step closer, pry the half-full cup out of his hand and kiss him. Yuri lets him press their bodies together and slide a hand into his hair, tongue and then teeth getting to know his bottom lip. He lets the guy into his mouth, a hand wandering down his spine and then past the hem of his pink shirt.  
  
Yuri knows Otabek isn’t _his_. They’re close friends, and they’ve always been, but Otabek would never sit thigh-to-thigh with him when they’re surrounded by his classmates. He would never be distracted by Yuri, unable to look away with a smile on his lips. Yuri’s skirt riding up up up would never make him want to kiss his friend since childhood.  
  
Bitter. Everything tastes bitter.  
  
Yuri knows he uses too much force when he pushes the guy away. He staggers backwards with a surprised yelp, but Yuri doesn’t stay in the room to make sure he isn’t hurt. He runs out of the kitchen and through the huge house, his socked feet sliding on the expensive parquet. He has gotten drunk in this particular house so many times he could find his way to the bathroom in his sleep.  
  
Yuri barely makes it to the bathroom before he throws up.  


* * *

  
[II - _'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yW7w8F2TVA)  


It’s the end of October, definitely too cold for an unbuttoned denim jacket and a crop top.  
  
That’s, however, exactly what Yuri is wearing that night (the top is just an old shirt he customized with dull scissors). He knows it’s October and chilly, especially after the sun has set; he also knows he’s about to get drunk, and vodka keeps him warm all year round. The bottle is heavy in his bag when he opens the door to the Altin household, not bothering to knock.  
  
It’s Halloween, and Otabek’s birthday. He didn’t want to celebrate his special day, but apparently some friends from his class kept insisting until he gave in and agreed on throwing a Halloween party.  
  
Music booms around Yuri when he kicks his shoes off and shrugs out of his jacket. He makes his way to the kitchen, somehow managing not to walk into drunken people. There’s a huge plastic bag of empty cans and bottles in the middle of the kitchen floor, and Yuri is quite relieved to see that even though the party has been going for some hours already, the house seems to be relatively clean.  
  
(Yuri doesn’t often care about mess, but he could call this house his other home, and absolutely no one is allowed to make it dirty - in one way or another.)  
  
Yuri hides his bag under the breakfast island, makes himself a drink (vodka and soda), and takes a yellow straw from one of the kitchen cabinets. He leaves his bottles in the fridge, and wanders further into the house. He wants to find the birthday boy, even though he gave his present already in the morning, so he follows the shouts and laughter to the huge living room.  
  
Four picture frames are still on their places on the mantelpiece, but the huge, antique vase and a set of golden fire tending tools usually standing on each side of the fireplace are nowhere to be seen. People are scattered on the armchairs and the couch, and it takes some time before Yuri spots Otabek in the middle of them all.  
  
A girl with long, blond hair has glued herself next to him.  
  
“You came,” Otabek says when Yuri manages to make his way to him through the other guests. His smile is genuine, small but warm. He wasn’t smiling before his eyes found Yuri.  
  
“Sorry I’m late. Grandpa needed help.”  
  
“It’s fine. You’re here now,” Otabek says and raises his bottle to toast with Yuri’s plastic cup. Plastic clanks against glass, and they both take a drink. “That’s all what matters.”  
  
“How long have you guys known each other?” the blondie suddenly asks. For some reason Yuri can’t remember her name even though he’s sure he knows it. Her eyes are huge, a little blurry from the booze, and she’s hugging Otabek’s arm.  
  
Otabek doesn’t seem to mind.  
  
“Long,” Yuri says, his tone prickly and cold. She’s wearing bright red nail polish and her eyeliner is perfect. Yuri doesn’t want to be mean or jealous, but against his own will he is.  
  
“I’ve known Yura since he was born,” Otabek says, giving a quick smile to the girl. The nickname only Otabek is allowed to use of him makes the ice inside Yuri melt. Mila tried to call him _Yura_ once - it didn’t end well. “We lived next to each other back then.”  
  
“That’s so cute!” blondie laughs, takes a sip of her drink and runs her eyes up and down Yuri. The look makes Yuri feel so much smaller and younger than he is; that she knows something Yuri is struggling to realize, and he shouldn’t start a fight because the war has already been won (and he didn’t have what it took to win, anyway).  
  
Yuri opens his mouth to say something, to start the fight or maybe thank the girl, but he’s interrupted. A group of Otabek’s guests marches into the living room, the two guys leading it wearing identical victorious smiles as they place a very badly decorated cake on the coffee table. It looks horrendous; a mismatch of red and green icing, colorful sprinkles, chocolate chips and tiny marshmallows.  
  
It’s made with love, no one could say otherwise.  
  
“We made it! For you!” someone yells. Yuri doesn’t recognize the voice, and from all the faces suddenly standing in the living room he can only name a few.  
  
“Or actually Mila made it. The cake, I mean,” one of the guys in front explains. He has green icing on his fingers. “We decorated it together.”  
  
“Wow. It’s,” Otabek starts, trying really hard to bite back his amused smile. “I’m sure it tastes better than it looks.” People laugh. The light-haired girl next to Otabek tightens her hold of his arm and snuggles closer, smiling. Yuri meets eyes with the guy who kissed him in the Back to School-party in September.  
  
*  
  
Yuri finds the eyes looking at him again when he goes out to the Altins’ huge backyard for fresh air. It’s been 45 minutes since the masterpiece of a cake was presented, and Yuri has had two and a half drinks more.  
  
The guy is smoking a cigarette, and there’s a half-full bottle of _something_ in front of him on the table.  
  
“Hey,” Yuri greets, leaning against the terrace’s railing. There’s some already warm vodka in the bottom of his cup, and he knows it’ll taste awful.  
  
“Hi,” the guy says. He blows out some smoke as Yuri’s breaths turn into small clouds in the chilly night. It’s not even midnight yet, and someone inside wanted to play Never Have I Ever.  
  
“You know,” Yuri says after a beat of silence. He turns so he can look at the other boy on the terrace. “Last time when we met, in that party, and you- I’m sorry I pushed you back then. And ran away.”  
  
“It’s fine,” the guy laughs. He drops the end of his cigarette in an empty beer can that works as a makeshift ashtray and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. He’s taller than Yuri, but only a couple of inches, and he’s wearing a black leather jacket and ripped jeans. Yuri isn’t sure is that his Halloween costume or daily wear.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” the guy says and walks to Yuri. He leans against the railing with a small smile on his lips, his eyes not leaving Yuri. “You know, Plisetsky-”  
  
“Wait. I don’t even know _your_ name.”  
  
Another laugh. “Oscar.”  
  
“Oscar.”  
  
“Hm. Can I call you Yuri?” He’s still smiling, and Yuri’s head is spinning from all the alcohol and thoughts he still tries to push out of his mind.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Well, Yuri,” Oscar says, Yuri’s name rolling on his tongue like he has said it million times before. “Would you mind if I kissed you again?”  
  
That’s not something Yuri expected him to say. Oscar cocks his head as he waits for Yuri to answer, that small smile still dancing on his lips. Yuri tries to remember how it felt when Oscar kissed him with that smile, pressed their bodies together and played with Yuri’s hair in the kitchen while their friends - both mutual and not - played a stupid game in the next room.  
  
(While Otabek let that girl press their bodies and lips together, just like tonight.)  
  
“No, I wouldn’t,” Yuri hears himself say. Quietly, the late autumn wind almost catching his words and taking them with it.  
  
Almost.  
  
Oscar closes the distance between them and kisses him - softly, his hand resting on Yuri’s cheek. Yuri’s lips are numb from the booze and his fingers shake when he brushes them against the other boy’s leather jacket. He runs his tongue over the seam of Yuri’s lips and sighs when Yuri lets him delve deeper into his mouth.  
  
There’s something familiar in it, something that soothes Yuri’s nerves and eases the craving in his chest. Oscar’s mouth tastes like smoke and cheap liquor, and the press of his tongue against Yuri’s is strong, demanding. Oscar slides a hand behind Yuri’s neck and pulls him closer, clanking their teeth together by accident; he mumbles a quick apology into Yuri’s mouth, sucking at his bottom lip before pressing their mouths together again.  
  
Yuri drops his cup, and the vodka in it spills all over the expensive wooden floor.  
  
*  
  
“Yura? Can I come in?” Yuri thinks it’s silly Otabek asks can he come in. It’s _his_ room, not Yuri’s, and the door isn’t even locked. He makes a noncommittal sound that Otabek takes as a yes, and comes into the dark room. Yuri listens to him close the door behind himself and walk to the bed Yuri is lying on.  
  
He doesn’t turn any lights on.  
  
“I brought you some water,” Otabek says and places a plastic cup on the nightstand. Yuri blinks, the yellow glow of streetlights coming in barely winning against the darkness - he doesn’t really see Otabek, but his presence is there. It’s calming and familiar, and Yuri sits up. He reaches for the cup of water and takes a slow drink.  
  
“Everything alright?” Otabek asks as he sits down on the edge of the bed.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You came up here so silently I think no one else even noticed.” Yuri puts the half-full cup back on the table and wonders what Otabek would say if he knew Yuri kissed his classmate; that they kissed until Yuri was shivering in the frigid night and Oscar was almost late from his nightshift in the local movie theater; that before Oscar came back inside to say his goodbyes to Otabek and his other friends he saved his number in Yuri’s phone and promised they’d talk more later.  
  
“That was kinda the point,” Yuri says, honest. There’s no need to lie or sugarcoat anything - it’s Otabek.  
  
“I was scared you’d pass out.”  
  
“I almost did,” Yuri shrugs and lies down again. The back of Otabek’s hand brushes against his hip and he shifts so there’s enough space for Otabek to lie down next to him.  
  
Yuri has shared a bed with Otabek countless of times. They started doing it when they were small and, for some reason, never grew out of it. The beds they were sharing got smaller as they got taller, but Yuri doesn’t mind. Listening to Otabek’s deep breathing as he sleeps is comforting, like a safe haven in the middle of a war zone.  
  
To Yuri, Otabek feels more home than the house he shares with his father and grandpa.  
  
“Ava asked me to go out with her.”  
  
Ava - that’s the name Yuri had forgotten. Long, golden hair and deep, bright eyes lined with black. She had a gorgeous red matte lipstick on at school the other day, and Yuri almost went to her and asked what brand it was. She’s wearing a tight, black dress tonight, blond curls cascading down her back like she was a Greek goddess.  
  
“As in you’ll go see a movie together or some shit, or as in you’ll be her boyfriend from now on?”  
  
A beat of silence. “Both, I guess.”  
  
“And what was your answer?”  
  
“I said I’d think about it,” Otabek says, quietly. He turns his head slightly so he can see Yuri better. Yuri keeps staring at the ceiling. “What do you think?”  
  
Yuri frowns and takes a glance at Otabek. He knows the other boy is looking at him, trying to bore holes into his carefully created facade (facade that hides how Yuri’s insides have gone so cold it almost burns; facade that screams in pain and frustration and disappointment in his head; facade that’s built on the fact that Otabek is _not_ Yuri’s - and will never be).  
  
“I think,” Yuri says, slowly. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he isn’t sure is it because of the booze or the choking feeling in the back of his throat. “I think you should do what makes you happy.”  
  
Otabek hums and turns properly on his side. Yuri looks at his best friend even though it’s hard to make out his outlines in the pitch black room.  
  
“Yeah,” Otabek says after a silence that felt like it went on for years. His fingertips brush against Yuri’s bare skin where his top ends. “I like your costume. We should go downstairs so others can appreciate it, too.”  
  
Yuri’s “costume” is homemade crop top with the text _Daddy’s Lil Monster_ printed on the chest, fishnet stockings and old denim shorts. He didn’t even have the time (or money) to go and buy those temporary hair colors every other shop sells around Halloween.  
  
“Did anyone drink my vodka yet?”  
  
“It’s still in the fridge. And the soda, too. You should have some more water before that, though.”  
  
“Fuck water.”  


* * *

  
[III -  _Cause every time I see your face, I break a little_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hg8lxtKSMQ0)  


It’s Otabek who comes into the bathroom, sits down next to Yuri and gathers his long hair to hold it back when he throws up. Yuri is drunk, so absolutely wasted he almost gave up in the stairway on his way to the second floor and threw up there. Everything’s spinning and he feels sicker than ever before, but-  
  
Otabek. It’s Otabek who braids his hair with gentle fingers and massages the back of his neck. The smell in the bathroom is disgusting but he’s still there, even though he has no obligation to look after Yuri (because Yuri is supposed to be responsible, and not drink too much too fast).  
  
“Yura?”  
  
“I feel sick but I have thrown up everything I’ve eaten in the past week,” Yuri mumbles, his words barely making it past his lips. His body feels heavy, and his head won’t stop pounding. He hears a sound - something like a small, stifled laugh - coming from Otabek’s direction, and he forces his eyes open.  
  
Otabek helps him to wrap his fingers around a plastic cup.  
  
“Drink this.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Wine,” the older boy says with a straight face, even though Yuri knows he’s lying. He takes a sip, knowing that he’ll be sick and hungover tomorrow no matter what.  
  
It’s water. Room temperature, on top of everything.  
  
“You lied to me.”  
  
“I thought you’d be drunk enough not to notice,” Otabek shrugs, as if he really did think that would work. _It’s the thought that counts_ , that’s what Yuri’s mom always said when she sent a card from the other side of the world for Yuri’s birthday. No present, just a card and a quick phone call. Yuri’s grandpa always tells him he’s lucky he looks more like his mother than his father. His father pretends to get mad at the comment.  
  
“You thought of me.” It’s the thought that counts.  
  
“Of course,” Otabek says, _you’re my best friend_ lingering in the air - unspoken, because they both know it. Yuri knows that if they weren’t alone, Otabek would have said it.  
  
Yuri takes another sip of water, the plain taste like cardboard on his tongue, and closes his eyes. The world is still spinning, and looking at Otabek just hurts (Yuri tells himself it’s because the bathroom lights are bright, not because there’s a purple imprint of someone’s teeth on Otabek’s neck and Yuri doesn’t want to be reminded of that).  
  
***  
  
Oscar’s family isn’t as rich as Otabek’s, but they definitely are richer than Yuri’s family. The driveway can easily fit three cars, the kitchen is big and modern, and the bottle of wine they take from the wine cooler probably cost more than Yuri’s whole wardrobe.  
  
It doesn’t exactly taste good, but because Yuri didn’t spend a single cent on it, it’s the best wine he has ever had.  
  
Oscar and Yuri aren’t dating - not like Otabek and Ava are, at least. Most of the time they get in Oscar’s car and drive around, speakers booming with music they can later make out to in the parking lot behind the movie theater. Sometimes Oscar takes Yuri to his home, where they steal a bottle of wine, watch something on Netflix and kiss until their lips are red and numb.  
  
On days when Oscar’s parents don’t get home for the night, they walk past the wine cooler and have sex. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, Yuri closes his eyes, bites his lip and thinks he’s with Otabek. He knows it’s wrong, dirty and disgusting, but he can’t stop - and doesn’t even want to stop.  
  
Otabek isn’t _his_ , and will never be.  
  
“A penny for your thoughts,” Oscars says, and Yuri jumps, the white wine splashing in his glass but not spilling over. Oscar’s small smile turns into a smirk.  
  
“Nothing much,” Yuri says and downs the rest of his drink. The other boy pours his glass full and empties the bottle in his own glass.  
  
“Didn’t seem like it,” Oscar says, taking a look at him over his shoulder as he puts the empty bottle away and opens the cooler for a full one. His cheeks are already getting red from the wine, and Yuri wonders does he look the same. He doesn’t feel drunk, not yet.  
  
“Just family stuff,” Yuri admits, and doesn’t exactly lie - they’ve known for so long that Otabek basically _is_ family at this point. However, considering everything, Yuri makes sure he doesn’t mention Otabek when he’s with Oscar. It doesn’t feel fair, kind of.  
  
“Let’s go upstairs and watch a movie or something then, hm? Get you something else to think about,” Oscars suggests, and Yuri nods. He knows from experience they will be too busy sipping wine and kissing to watch the thing on Oscar’s laptop, but at least his mind won’t be too focused on the negatives.  
  
Yuri lets Oscar take his hand and walk him to his room even though Yuri has memorized the route like the back of his hand by now.  
  
Oscar’s room is nice: spacious, with a huge window and soft bed. The wall across the bed is covered in different football trophies, diplomas and team photos. Yuri doesn’t know anything about football, but Otabek has taken him to see a couple of games the school’s team played in since he has many classmates in the team (Oscar’s number is 15). Apparently the school’s team is good; Yuri wouldn’t know.  
  
Yuri only knows how to survive a week on nothing but vodka, soda and whatever is small enough to slip into his bag when he visits the local grocery store. He only knows how to paint his own nails without getting too much polish on the surrounding skin, or where to find the prettiest babydoll dresses that don’t cost a fortune.  
  
Yuri only knows how to fall in love with someone who will never return his feelings, no matter how many years they’ve known each other.  
  
Yuri almost gets mad at himself when he realizes he has missed the beginning of the movie they’re watching while thinking about Otabek - again. He takes an angry sip of wine and forces his eyes on the laptop screen where a beautiful woman with long hair walks on empty streets, drenched from the rain.  
  
It’s been raining the whole week.  
  
Oscar reaches over Yuri to put his empty glass on the bedside table. Yuri isn’t sure how many glasses they have had - three, or maybe four? His mind is buzzing with static noise, and it’s hard to concentrate on the movie. Oscar pries his almost empty glass out of his hands and puts it on the table as well before pulling Yuri into a kiss.  
  
Yuri is used to kissing Oscar at this point. It always starts slowly, lazy movements of lips against each other. Yuri lets Oscar take the lead, lick into his mouth with more feeling and turn the kiss more aggressive. They’re both slightly drunk, and it’s more sloppy than hot and passionate, but it makes Yuri think about something else for a while.  
  
Oscar pushes Yuri down on the bed and climbs on top of him, his leg just barely missing the laptop on the bed. His mouth finds Yuri’s neck, nipping and teasing, and it takes some fumbling before Yuri manages to wrap his fingers around the older boy’s wrists.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
“What?” Oscar’s breathing is hot on Yuri’s neck, and it tickles.  
  
“I’m drunk.”  
  
“And?” A laugh. Oscar’s voice is low and deep, and he sounds more sober than he probably is. He tries to free his hands from Yuri’s grip, but fails.  
  
“I’m- I don’t want to. When drunk, I mean,” Yuri stammers, his heart rate picking up. “I’m not in the mood.”  
  
“Oh, c’mon, don’t worry. My parents won’t be home in like three hours,” Oscar says, and manages to yank his right hand to himself. He pins Yuri’s left arm down with it. “I’ll be quick.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Yuri says, irritated. It’s the second time he wonders does Oscar have problems with understanding what he definitely heard. “I don’t want to fuck.”  
  
He is drunk, not completely wasted like four days ago in Mila’s birthday party but in the state where the liquor tangles the thoughts in his head together and numbs his fingertips, making him see colorful lines and twinkling stars behind his eyelids when he blinks. Yuri never gets giddy or full of laughs when drunk, the booze only dulls his senses to the point where he doesn’t know how to stop until it’s too late.  
  
The last thing he wants to do is to take his clothes off and get sweaty, let someone touch him when he can’t even feel it properly. The thought alone makes him feel nauseous.  
  
“Jesus, Plisetsky.” _Plisetsky_. Oscar calls him Yuri, that name fits in his mouth so much better - he loves saying that name over and over again. He wrestles his left hand free and wraps it around Yuri’s right wrist. “Stop being such a pussy. You don’t even have to do anything.”  
  
“I still don’t want to,” Yuri spits out, stern, voice full of poison. It makes Oscar roll his eyes, and it’s so powerful Yuri can almost hear it.  
  
“But I do,” Oscars answers, shrugging. He’s stronger than Yuri (of course he is, he plays football and lifts weights heavier than Yuri for fun), and pulling him up is easy for him, knuckles going white around Yuri’s tiny wrists. He bites and sucks a mark high up on Yuri’s neck, on a place it’s impossible to hide.  
  
“Stop,” Yuri commands, asks, begs. Again and again, he says the word so many times it loses its meaning and becomes the sound of a metronome going in rhythm with everything Oscar does: two deep-purple bruises more on Yuri’s neck before he pushes him down on his stomach and forces him out of his shorts and tights and underwear, and he’s inside Yuri so fast his fuzzy mind can’t keep up.  
  
All he can say is _stop stop stop_ , matching the tempo of Oscar’s thrusts.  
  
Yuri has never had painless sex. It always hurts, sometimes just in his lower back, but sometimes the pain is overwhelming, drowning the pleasure underneath itself and wrapping around Yuri so he can only be loud and silently pray it will be over soon.  
  
This time it’s worse. Yuri’s throat gets sore, but from whispering _stop_ like a mantra instead of screaming. Oscar’s right hand is on his upper back, pressing him against the mattress while the fingers of his left hand are squeezed around Yuri’s forearm. Yuri’s hair falls over his eyes, and from behind the golden veil he sees a framed photograph perched on top of a drawer on the other side of the room.  
  
A photo of a group of boys laughing and smiling with their arms around each other’s shoulders, taken two months ago in a Halloween party. Yuri’s childhood friend standing in the middle of them all, a corner of his mouth quirked up.  
  
Yuri cries.  
  
He’s still crying when Oscar stands up, zips his jeans and opens the window to have a smoke. Yuri’s whole body shakes when he pushes himself up to get dressed in what he was stripped out of.  
  
The black tights have long, ugly rips on them.  
  
“You know, Plisetsky.” _Plisetsky_. “You’re fucking pathetic. Move on from Altin already, he’s dating Ava and I know for a fact they’re happy together. In a couple of years they’ll get engaged, have an accident baby and get married before turning 20.” Oscar throws the end of his cigarette out of the window and turns around to look at Yuri.  
  
He looks sad, kind of. Or just disappointed. Yuri doesn’t meet his eyes when he stands up, runs a hand through his hair and dries his face on the sleeve of his oversized hoodie. He lets Oscar walk to him and lift his chin up only because he’s scared of getting hurt again.  
  
“Give up. This isn’t a fucking fairytale,” Oscar says and lets go of Yuri’s chin, his hand falling to his side. Yuri walks past him, all the way to the door, unlocking it easily.  
  
Oscar sends him off with “I’ll be waiting for you when you finally wake up to the reality.”  
  
*  
  
Yuri’s legs take him behind the Altins’ front door without asking him. He’s standing there, drenched from the rain and shivering in the cold December air, mascara and eyeliner on his cheeks. There’s two cars in the driveway, but Yuri recognizes only one of them.  
  
He knocks even though he knows the doorbell isn’t broken.  
  
Yuri’s labored breaths turn into steam in front of his eyes when he waits behind the door. He knows that hearing anyone knocking on the door is almost impossible if you’re upstairs, but Yuri doesn’t want to bother anyone. He doesn’t even know why he came here instead of going home where his clean clothes and soft bed are.  
  
Yuri blinks when he hears footsteps on the other side of the door, and then it swings open. He meets perfectly lined blue eyes and a lithe body wrapped in tight jeans and small T-shirt. Ava blinks in total confusion, a flash of fear in her eyes when she sees Yuri’s ripped tights and bruised neck.  
  
“O-Otabek?” she calls, and Yuri breaks.  
  
He can’t stop the tears, and when Otabek comes to the door his legs give out. He’s screaming in pain, in frustration and anger, and even though seeing Otabek’s face should only make him angrier, it doesn’t. Yuri can’t hate Otabek, and that hurts the most.  
  
“Yura, hey. Yura.” Otabek’s arms are around him and he’s pressed against his chest, the familiar scent Yuri’s unconscious has labeled as _home_ only making him sob more uncontrollably. Otabek tries to get him on his feet, but Yuri doesn’t have the energy for that. In the end Otabek carries him inside, dripping wet and cold as a corpse.  
  
It’s Otabek who counts for him when he’s on the brink of hyperventilating. It’s Otabek who gently helps him out of his clothes and into dry, warm ones. It’s Otabek who towels the rain out of his hair and asks Ava to make some tea (green vanilla, because that’s Yuri’s favorite). Through all of this, Yuri cries - the tears won’t stop, and suddenly he’s too tired to fight them. He’s not wailing anymore, but every time he blinks he remembers why he was crying in the first place and it _hurts_.  
  
“I’m sorry I interrupted,” Yuri mumbles. The tea in the cup he nurtures has already gone cold, and Otabek has continued cooking the dinner he was in the middle of preparing when Yuri knocked on the door.  
  
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Otabek says, turning the stove off. His voice is quiet, because Ava is reading a story book to the twins in the living room. He sits across Yuri at the kitchen table, but Yuri can’t meet his gaze. He busies himself with staring out of the window, violent rain making it rattle.  
  
Yuri feels a headache coming, and he wants to go and sleep it off. On the other hand he’s terrified of closing his eyes.  
  
“What happened?” It’s the question Yuri has feared since the second he knocked on the Altins’ door. He knows it’s just Otabek - Otabek who is worried about him, who cares about him more than anyone else does - but Yuri is ashamed. Oscar’s right, he’s nothing but pathetic and stupid. Yuri thinks he probably deserved everything, a shock shaking him to his core to wake him up.  
  
One of the twins giggles in the living room, and Ava joins her for a second before going back to reading. Yuri glances towards the room, but he can’t see anyone from where he’s seated. Anyone except Otabek, of course.  
  
“Yura?”  
  
“It’s stupid.”  
  
“I’ve never seen you cry like that.” Mostly because Yuri has never cried like that; because he doesn’t really cry. Anger is more familiar to him, a feeling he knows and trusts. And he _is_ angry, mostly to himself, but it’s different. He wishes he could be angry to someone else, like Otabek or Oscar or his father.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“Yura, what happened?” There’s a hint of worry in Otabek’s tone, and Yuri hates it. The older boy’s hand reaches for Yuri’s, and their fingertips touch. Yuri looks up and is met with dark eyes full of concern and fear and pure worry.  
  
And Yuri can’t lie.  


* * *

  
[IV -  _I got issues, and one of them is how bad I need you_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kagTjQdFfUs)

Otabek has always known everything about Yuri, and vice versa. They don’t have secrets, and they never sugarcoat anything for the other. When they were small it had felt natural to tell everything to the other boy: they shared stories of Yuri’s absent mother and the high expectations Otabek’s hard working parents had.  
  
When they grew up, nothing really changed. They still share a bed when staying over the night at the other boy’s house; Yuri is still the only person outside Otabek’s family who has seen him cry, and Otabek is still the only person _ever_ who has seen Yuri in the delicate creations of lace and silk he treasures so much.  
  
Otabek has never felt the need to protect Yuri, because Yuri isn’t weak. He has razor-sharp teeth and a tongue made of poison, and he’s not afraid to use them. Yuri can’t read people like Otabek can, and his short temper attracts fights and troubles, but he’s never scared.  
  
So when Otabek sees Yuri cry in pain, every inch of his body screaming pure fear, Otabek doesn’t think. He acts.  
  
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Yuri says. The dirty bathroom stall around them smells like disinfectant and sweat. Yuri dabs a cotton pad soaked in the aforementioned disinfectant over Otabek’s bloody knuckles, and the older boy hisses in pain.  
  
“He hurt you,” Otabek says, and almost yanks his hand from Yuri’s hold when he presses the cotton pad over the biggest cut.  
  
“I told you to leave it,” the blond says, throws the cotton pad now dyed in red to the trash bin and takes a clean one out of his bag. Otabek knows he’s lucky Yuri carries those things with him.  
  
“I know, but I saw his face and I just… I couldn’t think straight,” Otabek confesses, and catches the small smile that visits Yuri’s lips before slinking away. It slightly eases the heavy feeling that has been making a nest in Otabek’s chest for a while now.  
  
“He’s your friend,” Yuri says as he pours disinfectant on the new cotton pad. He puts the bottle down on the floor next to his knees. “Left hand.”  
  
Otabek sighs and places his left hand on top of Yuri’s waiting palm and bites the inside of his cheek, knowing what’s coming. The pain makes his toes curl in his shoes.  
  
“He _was_ my friend. Before he raped you.”  
  
“He didn’t do that to me,” Yuri mumbles, quickly. The knuckles of Otabek’s left hand aren’t that badly damaged, and Yuri swipes away the dirt and dried up blood faster than he did when cleaning the right hand. He takes a look at Otabek’s face, avoiding his gaze, and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks.  
  
“You’re gonna get a bruise or two, but I don’t think-”  
  
“Yura.” Otabek’s voice is clear and stern, and Yuri’s eyes find his in less than a second. He looks shaken, a little frightened, and for the second time in his life Otabek feels physical need to protect his best friend.  
  
(The first time had happened just fifteen minutes ago, when he had seen Oscar across the school yard and his body had moved on its own. He had hit, and hit, and hit, until his knuckles were bleeding and Yuri was screaming _Beka don’t please you’re going to kill him_ from the top of his lungs, pulling the back of his leather jacket.  
  
He is probably going to get expelled.)  
  
“He forced himself on you.”  
  
“We were drunk. And making out,” Yuri says, irritation making his words prickly. They’ve had this conversation a couple of times now, and even though Otabek often admires Yuri’s stubbornness, now it just frustrates him.  
  
“But he still forced himself on you, after you told him to stop. Didn’t he?” Yuri’s body language turns stiff, like he was getting ready for a fight. He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant.  
  
“Maybe. But it’s fine, okay? Just… let it go, Beka. Forget about it.”  
  
“Are you serious? He _raped_ you, Yuri, you need to-”  
  
“Stop calling it that! Shut up, okay? Shut up! It wasn’t the first time we fucked, you know? And he was always rough, so let it go.” Otabek has seen Yuri angry so many times he has lost count already. Anger is familiar to Yuri, it’s something comfortable for him to hide behind when he gets overwhelmed by something he can’t stop thinking about. His anger is always bubbling just under the surface, and when it explodes he doesn’t care who gets ran over.  
  
“Yuri-”  
  
“No! I’m done talking about this. We’re late from class already anyway,” he says and caps the bottle of disinfectant. He throws it in his bag and kicks the stall door open, the hinges whining miserably. His hand is already on the bathroom door’s handle when Otabek catches up and takes him by his wrist.  
  
Yuri’s eyes are blazing when he turns around to look at Otabek. “What?!”  
  
“Yura, I’m sorry.”  
  
Yuri’s features soften a little until he frowns again. He shakes his head as if he was disappointed at Otabek and opens the door, his wrist slipping from Otabek’s hold.  
  
“Forget about it already, for fuck’s sake.”  
  
***  
  
Yuri didn’t want to go the New Year’s party Mila hosts, but fifteen minutes to midnight he finds himself behind the Babichevas’ front door. He wasn’t supposed to come, he told so to Mila at least ten times, but there he was.  
  
( _From: Beka_ _  
__[22:12] You’re coming to Mila’s tonight, right?  
  
__To: Beka_ _  
__[22:13] no  
  
__From: Beka_ _  
__[22:14] Why?_ _  
__[22:14] Oscar’s not coming.  
  
__To: Beka_ _  
__[22:15] ok??  
  
__From: Beka_ _  
__[22:17] I know you’re angry at me, but it’s New Year._ _  
__[22:18] I’m sorry, Yura. About everything._ _  
__[22:19] But we have always spent New Year together._ _  
__[22:19] I don’t want the year to change without you.  
  
__To: Beka_ _  
__[22:42] i’ll be there in an hour_ )  
  
Yuri rings the doorbell, and it doesn’t take long for the door to swing open and reveal Mila in a flattering black dress, red curls framing her alcohol-flushed face. It takes a heartbeat for her to recognize Yuri, and then she’s already pulling the boy inside from the freezing night.  
  
“Yuuuuriii, you came! You said you wouldn’t, but you’re here!” she slurs, hugging him tightly against her chest. Yuri has grown a little in the past months, and they are basically the same height nowadays. “I’m so, _so_ glad! It wouldn’t be a party without my tiny Russian brother!”  
  
“Mila, I can’t breathe.”  
  
“Oh! Shit, sorry,” Mila giggles and unwraps her arms around him, taking a step away. She frowns a little, studying Yuri carefully. “How are you doing, Yuri?”  
  
Yuri is aware basically the whole school knows what happened between him and Oscar. When Otabek decided to beat him up and tell him to keep his hands off of Yuri in front of everyone, people started to talk. Yuri is sure Oscar hasn’t told anyone what really happened, at least not all of it, but some of the rumors going around aren’t far from the truth.  
  
Apart from Yuri, the only person who really knows what Oscar did is Otabek. And no matter how many times Yuri tries to convince him everything is alright, that Oscar hasn’t bugged him after he left his place that day, Otabek refuses to drop the issue until Yuri tells someone else. Someone who can help; someone who could make Oscar pay for what he did.  
  
Yuri feels physically sick every time Otabek lets out the word _rape_ , and he has been getting angry to his best friend a lot lately - he feels like Otabek doesn’t want to talk about anything else than what happened.  
  
And Yuri would just want to forget.  
  
“Don’t worry about me, Mila. Just take me to the booze.” A grin spreads on Mila’s face, and she happily grants Yuri’s wish by taking his hand and leading the way to the bathroom. She starts digging through the huge bathtub filled with ice and different brands of alcohol, picking up bottles and cans in search of something she knows Yuri will like.  
  
It’s unusual for Yuri to drink something else than what he brought himself, but this time he didn’t get a chance to raid his father’s liquor cabinet. Somehow Mila understands without him saying anything.  
  
“I’m really happy you decided to join us,” Mila says and hands Yuri a bottle of Smirnoff ice. “You got lonely, holed up in your bedroom all alone on New Year’s Eve, didn’t you?”  
  
Yuri laughs, only half of it forced. He lets Mila clank their bottles together, and they both take a drink. It tastes better than Yuri’s usual choice of alcohol. “I guess so, yeah.”  
  
Mila gives her a smirk and a teasing wink, and - if Yuri is being honest - he isn’t sure does she know Otabek messaged him earlier. Knowing Mila, she could have been the reason Otabek even contacted Yuri in the first place (but Yuri wants to believe she isn’t).  
  
Yuri follows Mila all the way to the living room, where people have taken over the long couch and comfy armchairs, drinks in their hands. The music has been turned down, it providing a steady background noise to all the loud conversations going on between Mila’s guests as they wait for the year to change; a quick glance at the clock tells Yuri there’s only ten minutes left until midnight.  
  
Yuri sits down in a smaller armchair in the corner of the room, his eyes following Mila as she joins a group of girls, them all welcoming her with drunken laughs and shouts. Two of them are in the same advanced mathematics course as Yuri, and he greets them with a nod when they wave to him across the room. One of them whispers something to the other, and they giggle behind their hands.  
  
Yuri lets his eyes slide slowly from the girls around the living room as he sips his drink. He spots some familiar faces, either from school or parties: most of the football team spread on the couch, their explosive laughs louder than anyone else’s; a group of friends sitting underneath an open window with cigarettes in their mouths, the president of the student council in the middle of them all strumming an acoustic guitar; a few fools who, judged by how they’re draped over each other, have been drinking since Christmas.  
  
And there, in a squishy armchair next to the football team, is Otabek. His girlfriend is sitting on his lap, intensively listening to whatever a guy with red hair on the couch is telling her, but Otabek’s eyes are on Yuri.  
  
Yuri knows he should get up and go there to meet Otabek, say a couple of words - an apology, maybe. However, there isn’t anywhere for Yuri to sit, and he doesn’t exactly want to go near the football team (Otabek is friends with most of them, but so is Oscar, and that’s why many of them are kind of wary of Yuri; they still haven’t decided whose story to believe).  
  
Yuri bites his lip and meets his best friend’s gaze. He takes a deep breath, his mind filling up with everything he wants to say ( _I’m sorry I got angry - again; I’m sorry I can’t agree with you even though I know you’re right; I’m sorry I’m not letting you help me; I’m sorry I love you_ ), but just when he’s about to get on his feet and bite the bullet, he’s interrupted.  
  
“Play some real music if you gotta torture that poor guitar!” a girl curled up next to one of football team members yells over them all. There’s a playful smile on her lips though, and the student council president answers to it with his own.  
  
“Hm, what’s that? The rules say you can whine about the music only if you can play something better yourself,” he teases, and the girl rolls her eyes. The guy makes a big show out of drawing a couple of awful sounds out of the acoustic guitar, making people around him groan and whine.  
  
“I can’t play for shit, but neither can you,” the girl points out, and the guy simply shrugs, accepting the fact calmly.  
  
“Give that poor instrument to someone who can play it, and get ready! Two minutes left!” Mila butts in the conversation, pointing at the clock on the wall. She gets up to make sure the curtains in front of the living room’s big windows are drawn fully open so they can enjoy the fireworks without getting out in the freezing night. She stumbles through the room to switch all the lights off, and when she passes Yuri on her way back to her seat, she grabs him by the wrist.  
  
“C’mon, shortie, you won’t see shit from here.”  
  
When the clock hits midnight, the sky above the house lights up in different colors and shapes, some of the fireworks bright enough to blind. The ground shakes as they cheer and toast with their glasses and bottles, and Yuri makes sure to take a long drink with his eyes closed when the couples behind his back share their first kiss of the year.  
  
The show of colors continues when a soft, simple melody fills the room. People gathered near the windows turn to look where the music is coming from, most of them either turning back to enjoy the show outside or settling back on the couch and armchairs when they see Otabek sitting in the middle of the room with the acoustic guitar.  
  
Otabek has his legs crossed, his head nodding in rhythm with the slow melody he’s creating. Yuri has heard Otabek play countless of times, but he’s surprised to see how relaxed he looks there: he doesn’t really like to be the center of attention.  
  
Except that he isn’t, as long as the fireworks keep dyeing the dark night sky.  
  
_I'm jealous, I'm overzealous  
__When I'm down, I get real down_ _  
__When I'm high, I don't come down  
  
_ When Otabek starts singing, the whole room quiets down to hear him better. His voice is soft, rough around the edges but pleasant to ears. It goes perfectly with the sound of the guitar and the nearly astral show blowing up above them.  
  
_I get angry, baby, believe me  
__I could love you just like that_ _  
__And I could leave you just as fast  
  
_ Yuri leans his back against a wall, his eyes glued on Otabek. He doesn’t see the proud glint in Ava’s eyes, or how she whispers something to Mila, and when her eyes settle back on Otabek the laugh on Mila’s lips die out in an instant. Yuri doesn’t see the sky lighting up like it was daytime because he simply doesn’t care about anything else than Otabek.  
  
_But you don't judge me  
__'Cause if you did, baby, I would judge you too  
  
_ Yuri’s first bottle of the night isn’t even half-empty, but he feels drunk; kind of disoriented but bubbly; the back of his neck is warm but his fingertips are cold. He wants to close his eyes and enjoy Otabek’s voice and the melody he’s playing but he _can’t_ , because ever since Otabek started dating, Yuri hasn’t really had time to even hear his best friend’s voice properly.  
  
Yuri’s heart shatters a little when he thinks how Otabek definitely hasn’t been missing his voice; his presence.  
  
_'Cause I got issues  
__But you got 'em too_ _  
__So give 'em all to me_ _  
__And I'll give mine to you  
  
_ Otabek keeps his eyes down while he sings, as if the song was new to him even though his fingers move effortlessly on the strings. Yuri lets his soft, familiar voice wrap around him, and he can remember all the rainy afternoons he lay on Otabek’s bed, the older boy playing the guitar next to him; Otabek teaching him the basics of reading notes when Yuri was ten, the electric guitar loud enough to overpower the yells of Mr. and Mrs. Altin throw at each other downstairs; Otabek singing Yuri _happy birthday_ on his 7th birthday, nothing but a plain birthday card accompanying them in his tiny bedroom.  
  
_Bask in the glory_ _  
__Of all our problems_ _  
__'Cause we got the kind of love_ _  
__It takes to solve 'em  
  
_ Yuri remembers all the times he snuggled closer to his best friend in the middle of the night after waking up to his sobs, letting him hide his tear-stained face in Yuri’s shirt; Otabek watching as Yuri took his very first sip of a mix of vodka and soda (carefully poured in a red plastic cup by Otabek himself) and laughing at his disgusted expression; Yuri listening to Otabek’s heartbeat when he carried Yuri - cuts and bruises on his body and face, knees bleeding - home after the first day he showed up at school in a skirt.  
  
_Yeah, I got issues_ _  
__And one of them is how bad I need you  
  
_ Otabek looks up when singing the last line of the song, and his gaze finds Yuri immediately, as if he knew where his best friend is standing (he probably did).  
  
There’s tears in his eyes.  


* * *

  
[V -  _I can call the shots and you can call me what you want_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8N5X-2xAbg)  


It was four days after Yuri’s 14th birthday when he rolled on his back in Otabek’s bed, the room around them so dark he couldn’t see was the boy next to him asleep or not, took a shaky breath and whispered “I think I’m gay, Beka.”  
  
“Okay,” Otabek said after a beat of silence. A part of Yuri had wished he would have been asleep because he was terrified of being pushed out of the bed, disgust seeping into his best friend’s features.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“Okay. I think I might be bi,” Otabek answered, and in his voice Yuri could hear the small frown he often wore when deep in thought. “Labels and shit don’t really matter to me.”  
  
Yuri hummed and welcomed the silence that fell between them. They’re sharing a blanket, and Otabek’s skin felt warm when the backs of their hands brushed against each other as the older boy shifted, resting on his side. Yuri tried to listen to Otabek’s breathing, having hard time figuring out did he fall asleep or not.  
  
He bit his lip and decided to disturb the calmness of the night once more.  
  
“What if it hurts?” Yuri’s voice sounded pathetic even to himself - small, weak, fragile. Young.  
  
“What hurts?” Otabek’s voice was weighed down with sleepiness, but he definitely wasn’t stirred awake by Yuri’s question.  
  
A moment of silence, and another. Yuri’s heart was beating like it was going crazy, his ribs hurting from the insane tempo. Yuri had done his googling, had been curious since he began to question his identity. “Sex.”  
  
“Okay,” Otabek said again, his tone as neutral as it had been just a moment ago. “You do know I don’t have experience about that, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Yuri breathed out, the relief of letting all his worries out silently settling in his bones.  
  
“But I think,” Otabek continued, sounding so much more grown up than he actually was, “it’s possible it hurts. But you should only do it with someone who pays attention to what you feel, and won’t hurt you on purpose. And you can always stop if it gets too much, you know? Take it slow and stuff. And sex isn’t everything, you don’t have to do it.”  
  
Yuri hummed, nodding slowly even though the older boy couldn’t see him. Otabek didn’t pressure him to say anything, to elaborate or confirm he had understood. He knew Yuri was smart, and could take care of himself better than most people at his age. He knew Yuri hated to admit he was scared or inexperienced; hated when someone saw past the tough facade he put up around other people.  
  
Otabek also knew he was Yuri’s only exception in many things, but he would never use that against the younger boy. He had seen Yuri’s core, his soft and vulnerable soul, but it only assured him that the world would have to be very tough and unfair to make Yuri Plisetsky self-destruct.  
  
***  
  
In the end, all it takes is one Valentine’s Day for Yuri to crawl back to Oscar.  
  
It’s Tuesday, and when Yuri’s alarm goes off and he realizes what day it is, he wants to bury himself under the blanket and sleep for the next 24 hours. However, his second class of the day is geology (which doesn’t meet Yuri’s interests in the slightest, but for some reason the course is obligatory), and he’s already skipped it so many times he knows he’ll be kicked out of the course if he doesn’t show up today.  
  
Yuri sighs, dresses up (ripped jeans with black fishnets underneath, white sweater and his old, trusty combat boots), pulls his hair into a messy ponytail and makes himself a cup of strong coffee before getting out of the door.  
  
The members of the student council have given their all at decorating the school: there’s pink and red hearts cut out of cardboard everywhere, they’re walking around the corridors to hand out chocolate, and they have set up a booth to meet everyone’s need of cheesy couple photos.  
  
Yuri wants to go home.  
  
Some years ago Otabek had found out that in some places around the world people actually celebrate friendships instead of romantic relationships on Valentine’s Day. On that day he and Yuri created themselves a tradition to send ridiculous memes and cute cat videos back and forth on February 14th.  
  
Yuri’s phone stays quiet through the first period, and the only notification he gets before the second period ends is Facebook reminding him it’s the birthday of a girl whose name Yuri doesn’t even recognize. He opens the app and deletes her from his friend list.  
  
After the torturous and extremely boring geology class Yuri makes his way through the mass of people to stop by his locker. He turns the corner to the corridor his locker is on, and his eyes land on the student council’s ridiculous photo booth standing at the end of the corridor, the photographer in a neon-pink shirt currently having a light conversation with Otabek and his girlfriend. They’re holding hands, and Yuri has never seen Ava smile that widely.  
  
Yuri battles with the lock on his locker, his hands shaking in sudden rage. He throws the geology book in the locker, it hitting the back wall and rattling the whole row of lockers. He slams the door shut and almost punches the person who surprises him by leaning against the locker next to his.  
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” Oscar says, a knowing smirk on his lips. His eyes take a look at something behind Yuri’s back, and Yuri turns to look over his shoulder: Ava is pulling Otabek down for a kiss, the end of her long blond ponytail tickling Otabek’s hand placed low on her back as the photographer snaps pictures of the school’s hottest couple.  
  
For a second Yuri feels physically sick, and turning back to look at the boy standing in front of him doesn’t exactly make him feel any better. Yuri has ignored Oscar since December, not answering the text messages he sends every now and then. Yuri still has nightmares where he’s totally helpless as excruciating pain prickles in his every cell; he’s still scared of the feeling of being trapped and losing control over what happens to him.  
  
(But at the same time Yuri craves someone’s touch on his skin; needs the feeling of someone lusting over him; misses hearing the words _you’re beautiful_ whispered into his ear.)  
  
So he meets Oscar’s eyes and contemplates for a full second before grabbing the collar of the older boy’s official football team jacket and pulling him close.  
  
“Fuck me. I don’t give a shit where and how, just fuck me.”  
  
Yuri lets Oscar take him by the wrist and lead him around the corner, and he misses how Otabek jolts and takes a step towards them from where he’s standing just to get a weird look from Ava; she nudging him, teasing and laughing with her friends who have gathered around the couple; the knuckles of the hand not holding Ava’s turning white as he clenches it into a fist, hints of pure anger and fear slipping past his usually calm expression.  
  
*  
  
The streets are empty around noon, and Oscar drives them to his home in less than 10 minutes (not respecting the speed limits, Yuri turning the radio so loud he can’t hear his own thoughts). The house is empty and quiet around them, and when he pushes Yuri down on his bed and leaves a deep-purple bruise on his neck, Yuri moans shamelessly loud.  
  
Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on what he feels - he’s scared what his unconscious would make his body do if he kept looking at Oscar. He lets Oscar strip him out of his sweater and free his long hair, and he lifts his hips up so the older boy can take off his jeans, fishnets and underwear, tossing them away.  
  
He grabs fistfuls of brown hair as Oscar prepares him (sloppily, and fast, every single quick flick of his wrist telling Yuri he actually doesn’t care is the boy underneath him opened up or not - he’s only giving Yuri what he asked for), filling the air between them with filthy nothings.  
  
Yuri gasps in surprise when Oscar pulls his fingers out and the sound of a foil packet getting ripped open slashes through the air. He tries to sit up, but Oscar puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him down with a little bit more force than necessary. His dull nails dig into Yuri’s skin.  
  
“I don’t-”  
  
“Shh, baby. Aren’t you getting what you wanted, hm?” Oscar says, the tease in his tone full of thorns. Yuri forces himself to meet Oscar’s gaze, knowing very well he can see the panic blooming inside Yuri’s chest reflecting in his wide eyes.  
  
Oscar pushes the tip of his hard cock past Yuri’s rim, even the small stretch enough to send a jolt of pain up Yuri’s spine. His breathing is already erratic, growing more and more unsteady with every passing second. Oscar gets tired of waiting for his answer and kisses him, violently, with more teeth than tongue.  
  
Yuri can taste iron in his mouth when he finally nods.  
  
It gets easier after a couple of thrusts - Yuri isn’t sure does the pain really lessen or does he just get used to it, but he doesn’t complain. He just closes his eyes again and lets his mind drift, finally going through the feelings of anger and abandonment he had earlier by his locker.  
  
He moans and leaves long, red paths on Oscar’s back.  
  
A part of him is still angry, so angry it almost hurts: Otabek _forgot_. He forgot about Yuri, and their stupid, childish tradition, because he was too caught up messing around with his girlfriend. They’ve been dating for a while now, and it’s their first Valentine’s Day together - of course he’d spend every second of it thinking about his girlfriend, holding her close and kissing her in front of the whole school and then, after classes, take her to an expensive restaurant for a romantic dinner and after that…  
  
Yuri knows Otabek has slept with Ava because Otabek told him. On the day after that, when Oscar parked his car behind the movie theater to have a make out session with Yuri, the younger boy took a packet of lube and a condom out of his bag and told Oscar to be his first.  
  
(Yuri wanted Otabek to be his first as much as he hoped he could have been Otabek’s first.)  
  
Oscar’s hands push Yuri’s shoulders into the mattress, strong arms keeping him still as the angle changes and Yuri cries out in sudden pain. Oscar either takes it as a sound of pleasure or simply doesn’t care, and he moans out Yuri’s name, fastening his pace. Yuri bites his lip as tears burn his eyes, and he fights really hard against them by distracting himself from the pain. He thinks of the Valentine’s Day party he got invited to (or Mila told him to come, and Yuri can’t really turn down a chance to get drunk); he thinks of the pretty cardboard hearts taped on the school’s walls, every single one cut out by hand; he thinks how fucking lucky Ava is to have Otabek on top of her that night, kissing her red lips and pressing their bodies together…  
  
“F-fuck… Fuck, ah…,” Yuri breaths out in rhythm with Oscar’s thrusts, barely feeling anything else than dull ache in his body. “Be… ka…”  
  
Yuri knows he’s fucked up before the last syllable leaves his lips. His heart misses a beat and he’s too scared to open his eyes when the boy on top of him abruptly stops moving. The sudden silence feels like a lifetime, fear crawling in Yuri’s bloodstream, turning his veins icy.  
  
Then Oscar rams into him with brutal power, his fingers curling around Yuri’s shoulders so deep they both know there will be weirdly shaped bruises in a couple of hours. He presses their chests together and nips at the small, bleeding cut on Yuri’s bottom lip.  
  
“You really are a nasty little slut, Plisetsky. Didn’t you best friend teach you it’s rude to think about someone else when getting fucked, hm?” Oscar whispers next to Yuri’s ear, pulls out of him and turns him on his stomach like he didn’t weigh anything, just to thrust into him hard and fast.  
  
“I- I’m s-sorry,” Yuri manages to get out between sobs, the sudden pain almost unbearable. He cries out when Oscar gathers his hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls, his neck bending backwards. The angle is uncomfortable, but Yuri thinks he deserves it - deserves everything bad and hurtful.  
  
“Arrogant, so arrogant. You’re fucking lucky I like it,” Oscar pants out as he keeps thrusting into Yuri, ignoring the soft pleas asking him to stop; telling him it hurts. The pillow under Yuri’s cheek gets soaked from his tears, and when Oscar finally comes deep inside him, Yuri’s phone (happily forgotten in the back pocket of his jeans, buried under all their clothes) flashes with another notification.  
  
_18 missed calls from Beka_.  
  
*  
  
The party is at its peak when Yuri stumbles in, a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand and a full one in his bag. He hasn’t changed his clothes since morning, and his hair is on a messy half-up - he can’t remember when was the last time he even brushed through it.  
  
(He stole the bottles from Oscar’s parents’ wine cooler after a shower where he rubbed his skin until it was pink, pain still prickling up and down his spine when he sneaked out of the front door. He was exhausted, trembling from the second round of rough fucking Oscar put him through before falling asleep, and when Yuri finally took a look at his phone he realized he hadn’t eaten anything for over 12 hours. Otabek had called him 21 times.)  
  
“Plisetsky! You weren’t in maths today!” Yuri gives a smirk to the boy (Anthony? Andrew? Or maybe Aaron?) and shrugs, making his way to the group of boys. There’s a bottle of strong liqueur on the table, multiple shot glasses littered around it.  
  
“I got busy,” Yuri says and takes a chug out of his wine bottle. It’s bad, and makes him grimace in disgust, but it’s practically free so Yuri tries not to complain.  
  
“Yeah, I can see that,” the boy says, giving a meaningful look at the bruises on Yuri’s neck (he didn’t even look at the mirror before leaving Oscar’s room, but he knows his entire body looks absolutely mauled). He shrugs again and the boy laughs, pours some nearly-black liqueur in one of the empty glasses on the table and hands it to Yuri. “Shots?”  
  
“Fuck, yes please.”  
  
*  
  
Yuri has just downed his third shot when another person calls his name. He watches as Mila wobbles through the living room, an arm thrown around the shoulders of a girl Yuri has never seen before.  
  
“Yuuuriii, my brother of another mother!” Yuri shakes his head and laughs, raising his wine bottle so Mila can clank her plastic cup against something in a toast. “Did you talk with Otabek yet?”  
  
“Hm? I got here, like, 10 minutes ago.”  
  
“No, no, I mean- You didn’t come with him?”  
  
“I haven’t seen him today at all.” A lie, kind of, but Mila doesn’t have to know. “Why would he even be here? It’s _Valentine’s Day_. He’s probably somewhere fucking his perfect girlfriend or something.”  
  
“Yuri-”  
  
“Can we talk about something else than him? Maybe, like, this charming friend of yours?” Yuri says and gives a small smile to the girl next to Mila. She has long, brown hair and friendly eyes, and her nails have a perfect manicure. Yuri almost asks her has she done her nails herself, and if yes, would she do Yuri’s, too.  
  
“I’m Sara, Mila’s friend” she says, and they shake hands. Mila is displeased at the smooth way Yuri managed to change the topic of conversation, but she’s good at hiding it - Yuri notices it only because he knows Mila too well.  
  
“Friend, huh?” Yuri asks, teasing, and the implication in his voice is clear to the girls. Sara blushes and Mila gives Yuri’s arm a light slap, rolling her eyes in irritation. Yuri laughs and apologizes, and tries not to snatch Mila’s phone out of her hand when she takes it out as Sara starts a light conversation with the boys sitting at the table.  
  
Instead he takes the shot glass he’s given and empties it.  
  
*  
  
When Otabek arrives an hour later, Yuri is in the middle of a fierce beer pong battle, he and his math buddy’s - whose name is apparently Cameron, or at least that’s what the other guys call him - team losing majestically. The music has been turned up, and Yuri is so engulfed into the game (and drunk, so drunk he actually isn’t sure are they winning or losing; he just drinks and drinks, welcoming the numbness) he doesn’t pay attention to what is going on around him.  
  
Yuri throws the small, white ball to the other end of the table, it landing in one of the opposing team’s cups. He cheers with Cameron, and as he waits for the other team to decide whose turn was it to drink again, he looks up and sees his best friend standing across the room.  
  
Otabek’s eyes find him and Yuri can see how the tension in his shoulders is replaced with relief. It’s loud with the music blasting and people yelling drunkenly over each other, but even though Yuri can’t hear what Otabek says and has to rely on the movements of his lips, he understands.  
  
“Yura.”  
  
Yuri doesn’t move when Otabek hurries through the room, and he lets the older boy wrap his arms around him. Otabek is warm, his familiar scent and the feeling of his worn out leather jacket under Yuri’s fingertips calming.  
  
“Yura,” Otabek mumbles into Yuri’s hair, and this time he can hear it perfectly.  
  
Otabek breaks the embrace after a couple of seconds, but leaves his arms on Yuri’s shoulders (right on top of the clusters of aching bruises Oscar left there, but even though the weight on top of them hurts, Yuri thinks Otabek’s touch is the only thing that can heal them). He looks at Yuri, his brow in a subtle frown, and Yuri wants to smack the worry out of his expression. He avoids Otabek’s eyes and glances over his shoulder, only to see Ava still standing on the other side of the room, studying them from afar.  
  
“Why are you here?” Yuri asks, his tone icy. He almost forgot he was supposed to be mad at Otabek.  
  
“I tried to call to you, but you didn’t answer. I got worried-”  
  
“My phone died. Sorry,” Yuri blatantly lies and takes a step backwards. Otabek’s hands fall from Yuri’s shoulders, and in a blink of an eye Ava is there to hold one of them. She doesn’t say anything, but she looks confused, her eyes darting between her boyfriend and Yuri.  
  
“Yu-”  
  
“And I appreciate the concern, but as you can see, I’m fine.” Yuri knows he doesn’t _look_ fine - the bruises on his neck, his voice heavy with alcohol, his hair messy and dirty. “So you- you should go. Carry out whatever plans you have for tonight. Just… go.”  
  
A mix of relief and hope settles in Ava’s eyes. That’s the exact moment Yuri decides he hates her.  
  
“Yuri, can we talk?” Yuri finally meets Otabek eyes, frightened by the usage of his actual name. He swallows heavily when Otabek frees himself from Ava’s grip and slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Alone.”  
  
Otabek doesn’t wait for his answer - he turns and walks out of the glass door opening to the small outdoor area. Yuri decides to follow him after two seconds of stunned silence, avoiding Ava’s offended eyes when he picks up his combat boots from the floor and somehow gets them on before stepping outside.  
  
Otabek is leaning against the simple, white fence built around the house, his back to the party. The sun has set hours ago, and Yuri thanks his past self for putting on the sweater - his breathing turns into white puffs of fog in front of his eyes.  
  
It feels like the silence Otabek left behind himself has followed Yuri outside. Yuri’s mind is heavy from all the booze, and suddenly he’s completely exhausted.  
  
“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Otabek says suddenly.  
  
“I haven’t lied to you.”  
  
“I know your phone isn’t dead.”  
  
Another silence. Yuri leans against the fence as well and closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He’s too drunk to have a serious conversation right now, but that’s what is going to happen - at least judged by Otabek’s sullen expression and the way he’s wringing his hands.  
  
“Why are you here?” Yuri asks again when the silence has stretched out so long he can’t stand it. Long silences often make Yuri restless, but it’s the first time that has happened with Otabek. It’s always so relaxed with Otabek, so easy.  
  
“I saw you with Oscar.”  
  
“And that’s why you decided to bombard me with calls _and_ drag your poor girlfriend to a shitty party on a Valentine’s Day? And all this time I’ve thought you’re a gentleman.”  
  
“Yuri, I’m serious,” Otabek says, his voice just a tiny bit strained. Hearing his given name coming out of Otabek’s mouth makes Yuri more uncomfortable than the fact he might be angry.  
  
“So am I. Yes, I was with Oscar. Is that a problem?”  
  
“Did he touch you?”  
  
“We had sex, if that’s what you’re asking.”  
  
“You- What? Did he do it again? Are you hurt?” Yuri can hear concern and disgust in Otabek’s voice, and the irritation he felt hours ago in the school corridor flares up again. Otabek tries to touch his arm, but Yuri steps away from his reach.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Otabek!” Yuri is actually elated to see how Otabek jolts at the sound of his full name, underlined with anger. “You aren’t my fucking keeper! I can take care of myself. If I decide to fuck a guy, it’s not your business!”  
  
“A guy that raped you.”  
  
“Stop calling it that!” Yuri yells, frustrated. He knows Otabek is right, and if he told him everything that went down in Oscar’s bedroom earlier that day, the word would be brought up again.  
  
“But that’s what it was! And that’s what he did again, right? Forced you into something you didn’t want to do.” Otabek has raised his voice, and Yuri thinks they’re lucky no one else seems to be outside. The bass of the music inside is steady in their ears, loud enough to hide their heated conversation from the partiers just one wall away.  
  
“It doesn’t fucking matter, okay?”  
  
“Of course it matters! You haven’t answered his texts or calls, and you said you don’t want to see him again! What the fuck, Yuri? He says a couple of sweet words and suddenly you _give in_?”  
  
Yuri bites his tongue to keep his mouth shut, his hands curling into fists as he tries to tame the rage burning his insides. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t exactly have an answer to Otabek’s question. Why _did_ he go with Oscar when the memories of the older boy touching his body made him physically sick? Rationally thinking Yuri knows he could easily get basically anyone in his bed if he really was in a need of a quick fuck. All the Valentine’s Day decorations at school or sappy couples didn’t even make him yearn for a relationship of his own.  
  
Otabek looks at him, questioning frown settled on his face, and Yuri realizes he just wanted to make Otabek _jealous_. His hopeless crush on his best friend simply got the best of him, and the fact he didn’t seem to miss Yuri on the official day of love made him act on a whim against his better judgment.  
  
“Look,” Yuri says, slowly. The anger is still boiling inside him, and he’s not sure is he mad at himself or Otabek - whatever it is, his self-control isn’t made of steel and he’s already dancing on the edge. “It’s not that simple.”  
  
Otabek sighs, defeated. “I’m worried about you, Yura.”  
  
“You don’t have to be. I can take care of myself.”  
  
“This is not about that! I know you can take care of yourself.”  
  
“Fucking show it then!”  
  
Otabek’s shoulders tense and his mouth is like a strained line. Yuri wishes he hadn’t had so many shots, because his mind feels like an ocean, waving and making him dizzy. He’s tired - tired of the conversation, tired of himself. It’s been a long, long exhausting day.  
  
“I feel like I don’t even know you anymore,” Otabek says silently, looking like saying those words hurt him physically. “It’s like you’re trying to isolate yourself from everyone.”  
  
Yuri can’t help it when he sees red. Otabek is blaming _him_ for everything? It feels like the older boy had taken a knife and pierced Yuri’s chest with it. Yuri wants to scream and hit something to get all the frustration out; all these years he thought Otabek was smart, not a brainless idiot like everyone else.  
  
Yuri surprises even himself when he plunges forward and wraps his fingers around the collar of Otabek’s leather jacket, the older boy so taken aback by his actions he can do nothing when Yuri tries to shake some sense into him.  
  
“It’s because I’m fucking jealous, you piece of shit!” Yuri’s breathing is labored and he shivers, telling himself it’s only because of the cold night and not because the word _jealous_ tastes so bad in his mouth. The contrast between his white knuckles and Otabek’s black jacket is so radical his eyes hurt.  
  
Otabek blinks, pure confusion spread on his face. The air between them is heavy and stagnant, filled with Yuri panting from his sudden outburst.  
  
“Je-? But why would you be jealous?” Otabek asks, his voice barely a whisper - honestly Yuri doesn’t know is he just thinking out loud. Yuri sighs and rests his head against Otabek’s chest, his eyelids heavy. He doesn’t let go of the collar, but relaxes enough for his fingers not to cramp anymore.  
  
Yuri doesn’t have enough energy to keep his anger aflame - he’s _exhausted_. Exhausted of getting hurt, physically and emotionally; exhausted of pretending and dancing on the edge so his real feelings wouldn’t get revealed. He wants to get every bottled up emotion and thought out, but he’s too tired even for that.  
  
Otabek smells like home.  
  
“I love you. I’ve loved you since I was, like, ten. And seeing you with her is just-” Yuri’s fingers tighten around the collar again once Ava’s face flashes through his mind. He wants to throw up, but that’s probably just from the mix of different alcohols he has had throughout the night. “I can’t fucking stand it.”  
  
Yuri knows he’s being selfish - that he has been acting selfish this whole time. He shouldn’t have fallen for his best friend in the first place anyway, and the very last thing he should be doing is confess his feelings.  
  
But Yuri is drunk, and tired, and everything is getting too hard to keep in.  
  
Otabek doesn’t say anything, but Yuri can feel his quick, steady heartbeat. He places his hand on the back of Yuri’s neck and massages it gently, his fingertips cold. His other arm is wrapped lazily around Yuri’s middle to create comfort and warmth. The song inside reaches its last notes and changes before Otabek clears his throat.  
  
The song finishes and changes again before he actually opens his mouth to say something. Yuri gives him time.  
  
“I told Mila earlier today that every time I kiss Ava I think about you, and she called me an idiot.”  
  
Otabek’s voice is quiet, but it doesn’t waver, as if he had just realized something that would change his life forever. The almost sad undertone in his words crackles in Yuri’s ears, making them ring. He breathes out a small sigh and lets his arms fall down, not fighting when Otabek pulls him closer and kisses the top of his head. The touch lingers, and if Yuri hadn’t cried so much just hours ago, he would cry now.  
  
Yuri wants to believe Otabek, but a part of him thinks his drunken mind is just making the words up or creating hallucinations. He wants to have this conversation in the morning when both of them have had enough sleep; when Yuri doesn’t have alcohol in his bloodstream and Otabek’s shoulders aren’t tense with worry and (too many) cigarettes smoked in secret.  
  
“Can we finish this conversation later?” Yuri asks, taking a step backwards. Otabek doesn’t try to hold him close, but a hint of uncertainty flashes in his dark eyes.  
  
“I’d rather have it now.”  
  
“Please, Beka. I’m _so_ tired,” Yuri says, not even having to lie. Otabek’s harsh scowl changes into a worried frown, and he moves his hand from the back of Yuri’s neck on his cheek, studying his face carefully.  
  
“Let me drive you home.”  
  
*  
  
It’s not the first time Otabek brings drunken Yuri home after midnight, greeting a very disappointed looking Nikolai Plisetsky at the door. He knows his grandson will apologize for it later, so he only sighs and lets the two teenagers in, shaking his head.  
  
It’s been a little while since Yuri’s last drink, and his conversation with Otabek earlier kind of sobered him up - he’s just tired, and has to restrain himself from just falling onto his bed when they get in his room. Otabek turns the bedside lamp on while Yuri twists his hair into a bun on top of his head.  
  
“Do you want me to get you some water?” Yuri shakes his head and sits down on his bed, avoiding the older boy’s gaze. “You sure?”  
  
“Yeah,” Yuri sighs, kicking his boots off his feet. “I’m fine.”  
  
“You don’t look fine.” Yuri looks up, surprised. Otabek’s face is expressionless, unreadable to the younger boy, but there’s a soft shadow in the way he looks at Yuri. Otabek raises his hand, his fingertips brushing over the purple bruises blooming on Yuri’s pale neck. Then he seems to realize what he’s doing, and drops his hand back down.  
  
Yuri swallows thickly, his chest aching.  
  
“I am. You should go.”  
  
“Yura, I-”  
  
“Go. Your girlfriend is waiting for you in the car,” Yuri reminds him, his tone sharp. The drive to the Plisetsky house had felt like a lifetime, Yuri feeling Ava throwing ice-cold looks at him via the rear-view mirror.  
  
Otabek nods and straightens up, and Yuri can sense how he’s itching to say or do something. Their eyes meet, and for a second Yuri is sure Otabek is going to take a step forward and kiss him. The moment passes, and then Otabek is at the door already. If Yuri is being honest, he wants to ask Otabek to stay: curl up in the bed next to him and sleep until there’s no traces of exhaustion in their bones.  
  
But he stays silent, keeping his thoughts to himself; he has talked enough for the night.  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Otabek asks, half-way out of the door. Yuri nods, slowly at first, and then once more.  
  
“See you tomorrow.”  
  
Yuri really tries to sleep that night, his eyelids so heavy he can’t keep them open, but sleep doesn’t seem to come. Hangover settles inside his skull as a sharp ache, and Otabek’s words run through his mind over and over again. _Every time I kiss Ava I think about you_. A couple of times during the night he almost reaches for his phone and dials to Otabek’s number, but in the end his body refuses to move.  
  
When he finally falls asleep, just moments before the sun rises, he has restless nightmares where he’s trapped in somewhere dark and small, every inch of his body hurting as he tries to escape from the uncomfortableness choking him.  
  
*  
  
Yuri doesn’t get up before his morning classes end, but manages to drag himself out of bed and all the way to school 20 minutes into lunch break. His head and eyes hurt from the lack of sleep and a slight hangover, but at least he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore (it took him a lot of willpower to force down a cup of coffee and some cereal, and even though he almost couldn’t keep them down, he’s now glad he did eat).  
  
He stops by his locker, extremely happy to see the photo booth from yesterday has been taken down. He takes his geography book out of the locker and slams the door shut, and just when he’s about to leave, he hears Mila calling his name.  
  
“You disappeared yesterday.”  
  
“Yeah, Beka took me home around the same time you were shoving your tongue down Sara’s throat,” Yuri deadpans, and Mila blushes. Her red curls match the color on her face, and her makeup is perfect - if Yuri didn’t know better, he wouldn’t believe the girl in front of him went partying the night before.  
  
“Speaking of Otabek,” Mila says, clearing her throat, very heavily implying they would talk about whatever was going on between her and Sara later somewhere less public. “Are you guys cool? You were out there talking pretty long, and… You know.”  
  
She shrugs, smiling kind of awkwardly, and Yuri frowns. “No, I don’t know.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“He and Ava broke up this morning. Literally everyone’s talking about it because she came to school crying her eyes out and made a scene, because, well… That’s how she is.”  
  
Yuri doesn’t say anything when he turns on his heel and runs; he doesn’t turn back to apologize when he almost knocks down a girl carrying a pile of books, nor does he stop when a teacher yells his name and tells him it’s forbidden to run in the corridors. He runs, and runs, and _runs_ , until he’s in the third floor’s science corridor (because he knows Otabek has biology in the same time slot where he has geology).  
  
Otabek is loitering near the classroom, a bunch of his friends surrounding him, but somehow he notices Yuri immediately - maybe his intuition told him he was there, maybe it was just a coincidence. Their eyes meet, and once again Yuri doesn’t have to hear what Otabek says when he opens his mouth to a relieved whisper, a soft sadness swimming in his eyes.  
  
“ _Yura_.”  
  
*  
  
Yuri thinks Otabek has never skipped a class before (he might look like one of the guys who used to beat Yuri up after school, but he’s nothing like them), and now when he does skip a class, it’s because of Yuri.  
  
Or not actually just because of Yuri - but he’s a big part of it.  
  
Yuri doesn’t recognize the music playing in the CD player of Otabek’s car, and he isn’t dressed for the chilly air inside the vehicle (he really thought it would be warm enough for tights and shorts, but apparently it was just his hangover talking). He turns the heating up as they leave the school building behind them, Otabek’s foot heavy on the gas pedal.  
  
To Otabek, driving has always been a way to get a break from the reality. He prefers his motorcycle, but it’s still too cold for that - Yuri knows Otabek can’t wait for the weather to get a little bit warmer so he can start riding his bike again. Yuri has spent countless of kilometers on the road with Otabek, just driving in silence (Otabek says the speed makes him relaxed, but Yuri thinks he actually just wants to escape and never come back).  
  
They haven’t made a proper road trip together in months; nowadays sitting on the passenger seat only reminds Yuri of making out in a parking lot and painful sex.  
  
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Yuri says, his voice sounding mechanical even to himself. Otabek glances at him from the corner of his eye, his concentration on the road.  
  
“What about it?”  
  
“What I said and stuff.”  
  
“So you didn’t mean it?”  
  
“No, that’s not- I meant it. Every word. But…”, Yuri trails off, an unsettling feeling in his chest. Otabek sounds and seems calm, a lot more peaceful than last night.  
  
“But?”  
  
“Mila told me you and Ava broke up.” Yuri’s words hang heavy in the air, and for a brief moment Otabek’s knuckles go white around the steering wheel. Looking at him only makes Yuri feel like he was choking, and he takes a look out of the window. He realizes he has no idea where they are, or where they’re heading.  
  
He’s pretty sure Otabek doesn’t know, either.  
  
“Yes, we did.”  
  
“Is it because of what I said? Beka, I never wanted-”  
  
“Yes, and no.” Yuri blinks, his silence prompting Otabek to continue. “Don’t you remember what _I_ said yesterday?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but… It was just- You were just saying that because-”  
  
“Yura,” Otabek sighs, a small smile on his lips. He stops the car at a red light, the lane next to them completely empty. Otabek turns to look at Yuri, his gentle eyes finding a pair of nervous ones. “Yura, I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”  
  
Yuri can’t say anything, and he keeps staring at Otabek when the light changes and he turns right at the next crossing. Slowly Yuri leans back in his seat and looks at the road, not really seeing anything.  
  
“Fuck. Fucking shit.”  
  
“Yeah,” Otabek agrees, and they’re silent until the next crossing. Otabek takes a left.  
  
“So you weren’t just talking yesterday.”  
  
“Have I ever lied to you?” Otabek asks, and since they both know the answer Yuri doesn’t say anything. He keeps his mouth closed, his heart banging against his ribs like it was feeling trapped while the choking feeling around his neck slowly lets go.  
  
He doesn’t move when Otabek parks the car in front of the Altins’ house, shuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. Yuri manages not to jump when Otabek touches his shoulder gently, even though his insides perform cartwheels. Yuri’s fingers shake when he undoes the seatbelt, nervous under Otabek’s unwavering gaze.  
  
“You okay?” Otabek’s voice and expression are slightly worried, his eyebrows in a delicate frown. The early afternoon sun shines in his dark eyes, and Yuri feels like coming home when he leans in and kisses the older boy, their tears of relief salty on Yuri’s lips.  


* * *

  
[VI -  _The party just ended but I'm not done with you_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OM33anTtEVE)  


Yuri wants to believe he’s gotten used to the nightmares he regularly has, but the truth is that they still shake him to his core. True, he doesn’t wake up kicking and screaming from them anymore, but their contents have not changed since they started in December: he’s trapped, something or someone he can’t see choking him. It’s dark around him, and everything hurts so much he’s certain he is going to die. When he tries to move (and he always tries, even though he knows what’s going to happen) the pain just gets worse, and the walls he can’t see in the darkness get closer and closer, the invisible fingers around his neck squeezing tighter, and tighter, and _tighter-  
  
_ Yuri wakes up and blindly throws the blanket over him away. He’s still half-asleep, his body shivering in cold sweat, and he tries to get on his feet in the lightless room to run away from the world inside his head.  
  
When someone grabs his arm, Yuri panics.  
  
“No! Let me go, let me go- stop, _stop_ ,” he begs, his voice thick from the tears falling on his cheeks. He tries to yank his arm free, but fails. He feels claustrophobic, his lungs not getting enough air while his mind repeats a scene where he’s pushed down and held there by force. “Please, let me go…”  
  
“Yura. Yura, can you hear me?”  
  
_Otabek_.  
  
The familiar voice dissolves the knot in his throat, and he takes a long, shaky breath. He finally gives in and instead of trying to pull himself free, he lets Otabek wrap his arms around him and press him against a familiar chest.  
  
“Hey, baby, don’t cry. It’s over now. It’s okay.” They both know it is not okay, and secretly Yuri is afraid he will never be okay. The nightmares haunt him even when he’s awake, no matter how hard he tries to push them away - if he’s being honest, repressing the thoughts and memories has only made the nightmares more powerful.  
  
Oscar wanted to destroy him, and it seems he has gotten what he wanted.  
  
“Do you want me to breathe with you?” Otabek asks after a couple of heartbeats, Yuri’s sobs and rugged gasps of air making the silence around them heavy. He nods and Otabek starts counting, Yuri trying to copy his deep inhales and exhales. They sit there, tangled in sheets and oversized T-shirts, for half an hour and just breathe, Otabek running his hand through Yuri’s hair the whole time.  
  
Eventually Yuri falls asleep, and he misses how Otabek presses a kiss on top of his head and promises to make it all better.  
  
***  
  
Yuri tags along when Otabek and Mila go to see the home game of their varsity team. Otabek tells him he doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to, a worried expression on his face.  
  
(Yuri knows he says that because he knows about Yuri’s nightmares, but the dreams are actually the reason why Yuri wants to go - he’s not weak, and he doesn’t want Otabek to think otherwise; Yuri is strong, and even though he hasn’t slept properly for two weeks he decides to spend the Friday night in a football game.)  
  
“Just tell me if you wanna leave, and we’ll leave,” Otabek says when the school’s team marches on the field. The commentator says Oscar’s name, and Yuri fights against an annoyed eyeroll.  
  
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”  
  
“I’m just-”  
  
“He won’t fucking attack me from the field. He probably doesn’t even know I’m here. Chill,” Yuri says and rests his hand on top of Otabek’s knee. He intertwines their fingers, thumb brushing over Yuri’s knuckles. “Also, all your friends are playing. You need to be here to cheer for them.”  
  
“Not all of them are my friends.”  
  
“ _Some_ of your friends, then. Enjoy the game and stop worrying,” Yuri commands, and Otabek gives him a weak smile. Yuri knocks their shoulders together to underline his words and it seems to reassure Otabek enough to relax and shift his attention from his boyfriend to the game that’s about to start.  
  
As the game goes on, Yuri comes to terms with the fact he still understands nothing about football. From the corner of his eye he sees how intensively Otabek follows the game and cheers for his friends despite not being that into playing himself.  
  
Most of the first half of the game Yuri busies himself with the thoughts of Otabek running after the ball, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, strong arms in a shirt that has his last name printed on the back…  
  
Yuri and Otabek aren’t dating - at least not like Otabek and Ava were. It’s hard, and complicated, and kind of messy, because after the conversation they had in Otabek’s car nothing in their relationship really changed: they still share a bed at night, they still talk about everything (and when there’s nothing to talk about, they’re silent together), they still drive aimlessly for hours just to come back home when the sun goes down.  
  
The only new thing is kissing, and Yuri can’t get enough of it.  
  
If he’s being honest, he can’t get enough of _Otabek_ : kissing him, snuggling closer to him when they share a bed, sitting on the passenger seat of his car and loosely holding his hand when they get out of the city and there’s nothing but a long, long highway ahead. All of it feels like a dream, unreal in a way, and in some of his nightmares Yuri is not only trapped; he’s abandoned, left completely alone because he’s not good enough.  
  
Losing Otabek scares Yuri more than facing Oscar all of a sudden at school or getting a call from the hospital telling him something has happened to his grandpa. He hasn’t told Otabek about the fear, but he has a feeling that Otabek knows.  
  
Because Otabek always knows everything about Yuri, even the things he doesn’t say out loud.  
  
The first half of the game ends in a tie, and Yuri spends half time chatting with Mila and some friends of hers, laughing at their jokes and pulling Otabek closer when Mila wants to take a selfie with them all. Otabek wraps his arm around Yuri’s waist, a warm comfort in the chilly night.  
  
That’s when everything starts to go downhill.  
  
In the second half of the game the school’s team gets more aggressive: they obviously don’t want to lose on their home ground. The players do some pretty cool tricks with the ball, their teamwork working like a dream. The commentator gets excited, cheering with the audience as the home team makes a goal, yelling over the clamor how Oscar Miller, number 15 - the striker just now - will definitely be awarded an athletic scholarship to a top university.  
  
The commentator keeps praising Oscar, but Yuri can’t hear him - a sharp buzzing has filled his mind. He’s been trying really hard not to think about Oscar or what the older boy did to him, because the memories are present every time he closes his eyes. That’s why the thought of Oscar being an athletic genius - the whole school’s pride and a hero to his classmates - hasn’t even crossed his mind.  
  
Yuri realizes that everyone around him sees Oscar as a perfect person, and the fact wraps itself around his neck and smashes his carefully built world in pieces.  
  
“I need to get out,” Yuri chokes out, trembling. He knows he’s technically already out, but that’s how he feels like - he needs air, space; he needs to get away.  
  
“What?” Otabek asks, the loud cheers making it hard even for Yuri to hear his own voice.  
  
“I- out,” Yuri repeats, and it takes half a second for Otabek to react. He takes Yuri by his wrist and leads him to the parking lot, away from the game, noise and people. He counts and breathes calmly with Yuri, a hand on his shoulder to keep him grounded but standing far enough to give him the space he needs.  
  
Yuri doesn’t know how long it takes until he calms down, but when he can hear again, the game is still going. He can’t make out words, but the commentators voice is booming over the cheers, floating all the way to the dimly lit parking lot.  
  
“Yura?” Otabek’s voice is careful and silent, as if he was afraid to disturb the eerie atmosphere around them.  
  
“He… He can live on, get far in his life, get praised by others because they don’t know. And- and I’m just gonna be fucked up for the rest of my life because of him. That’s just- it’s fucking unfair, Beka.”  
  
“I know,” Otabek says and brushes the wild locks of hair falling on Yuri’s face behind his ear. “You should tell someone. Report him.”  
  
“No one would believe me.” Otabek doesn’t say anything, because they both know Yuri is right. The members of the school’s varsity team are treated like Gods by everyone - students, teachers, and the rest of the staff. Someone with mediocre grades and a bad reputation like Yuri would just get scolded (and probably beat up) if he called the team’s best player _a rapist_.  
  
An uncomfortable, miserable silence falls between them. Yuri shivers, slightly tired from his earlier panic attack. He buries the tip of his cold nose in his scarf and pulls his hood up. He’s wrapping the jacket better around himself when Otabek suddenly takes his hand and gives his car keys to the younger boy.  
  
“I promise that I saw nothing,” he says and walks past Yuri, heading back towards the field, leaving a very confused Yuri alone in the parking lot. He takes a look at the keys on his palm, frowning at them. Does he want Yuri to steal his car and drive away?  
  
Yuri spins around and is about to yell after Otabek when he realizes whose car is parked right next to him, looking spotless and shiny even in the weak lighting. Yuri takes a quick look around himself in case of surveillance cameras, but the only one is pointing away from him and Oscar’s car.  
  
When Yuri comes back to sit next to Otabek, slipping the keys in the pocket of his leather jacket, he gets an amused smirk as a reply. Yuri wants to laugh and kiss Otabek senseless, joke how he would have never expected something like that from him even though he looks a little bit like the bullies always picking on Yuri. Instead of saying anything Yuri rests his head on Otabek’s shoulder and watches how the opposing team takes a win over the home team.  
  
*  
  
The next day at school Oscar is seething with rage, announcing loud enough for the whole school to hear that the fucker who left long, ugly scratches on the paint of his car and smashed three windows during last night’s game will pay; he also remembers to remind everyone that his father is a lawyer and they are going to report the vandalism.  
  
Scratching Oscar’s car and breaking the windows didn’t free Yuri of his nightmares or stop Otabek’s worries that touching his boyfriend would give him traumatic flashbacks. Yuri still has troubles falling back asleep every time he gets pulled out of a violent dream, and he spends those sleepless nights running his fingers up and down Otabek’s spine, thinking there must be something wrong with his body because Otabek doesn’t seem to want him.  
  
(In the end Oscar didn’t find the person who basically destroyed his car despite all his efforts and threats. However, Yuri is sure Oscar knows exactly who did it.)  
  
***  
  
Yuri isn’t in the mood to celebrate his birthday, and that’s what he tells to Otabek when he asks about it. His birthday falls on a Thursday, and when their classes end Otabek drives them to the city and treats Yuri with a cup of overly-sweet hot chocolate in a small, cozy coffee shop. After that they take a walk down the shopping district, and Yuri tells Otabek at least ten times he doesn’t need a birthday present - that being with the older boy is enough.  
  
Otabek kisses him with lips tasting like the strong coffee he bought for himself, and when they get home Otabek’s younger siblings drag them to the living room to watch a movie, the twins snuggling Yuri from both sides (the three of them fall asleep on the couch, and Otabek takes a picture of them and sets it as his phone’s background).  
  
Despite saying he didn’t want a party, Yuri can’t get mad when he arrives to the Altins’ house on the following Saturday and is greeted by Otabek and some friends of theirs. There’s a small selection of alcohol in the freezer and Mila has even baked a cake for the occasion.  
  
“I know you didn’t want to celebrate, but everyone insisted. I hope you can forgive me,” Otabek says after Sara has poured them all a glass of wine, she and Mila setting the table so they can sit down and eat. There’s a pile of gifts in one corner, and Yuri doesn’t even try to bite back a happy smile when Otabek wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.  
  
“I’ve been doing homework the whole day, so this was a nice surprise. You’re forgiven,” Yuri says and presses a kiss on Otabek’s jaw, laughing when someone sends a suggestive whistle their way. Otabek’s eyes are sparkling when their gazes meet, and for the first time in months Yuri’s heart feels light.  
  
“Okay, birthday boy,” Mila says, her hands on her hips and a wide grin on her face. She has lit the candles on top of the cake, and even though Yuri thinks they all are a little bit too old for a birthday party like this, he blows the candles out as his surprise guests sing to him.  
  
“Did you make a wish?” Otabek asks when Mila starts cutting the cake and Sara passes around a bottle of sparkling wine.  
  
“Yeah,” Yuri says and smiles.  
  
He wished to be as happy in the following year as he’s on that exact moment; he wished Otabek will be there next to him even if his nightmares won’t get better; he wished he can start fresh, leave all the bad memories and terrible people in the past and enjoy the company of the friends around him more.  
  
“Yeah,” he says again and loosely intertwines his fingers with Otabek’s under the table. “But I’m not telling you, because then it won’t come true.”  
  
Otabek just nods with a smile, the understanding look in his eyes telling Yuri he somehow already knows what the younger boy wished for.  
  
Yuri spends the rest of the night playing drinking games with the guests of his surprise party (his only goal for every round is to beat Mila, and Mila’s only goal is to beat him), laughing at their stupid jokes and Sara’s stories of her dumb twin brother. Around midnight he’s too drunk to open his presents, but he still does it, tears burning in the corners of his eyes because he can’t believe the people around him _thought_ of him.  
  
_It’s the thought that counts_ , Yuri’s mother always said. That’s what he whispers into Otabek’s ear when they wave goodbye to their guests and the older boy says he’d like Yuri to be sober when he gives his present. When they curl around each other in Otabek’s bed, Yuri’s lips gently grazing the older boy’s neck, he reminds him he doesn’t need presents.  
  
“I know,” Otabek says, sleep seeping into his voice. “But you’re worth it.”  
  
*  
  
Out of the two of them, Yuri often wakes up first. He has always been a light sleeper, and doesn’t physically need as much sleep as Otabek. On the morning after his birthday party Yuri wakes up to dry mouth (that’s the only sign of hangover he has, and he suspects it’s because an hour or two before the guests left, Otabek kept replacing the wine in his glass with water; Yuri noticed it but didn’t say anything, because he didn’t really care).  
  
Yuri gets up and tiptoes out of the bedroom, making sure not to wake Otabek. He pulls on the shirt he wore the day before and gets downstairs for a glass of water. The house is quiet around him, the rays of the rising sun revealing millions of dust particles dancing in the air. Otabek’s parents and siblings spent the night at Otabek’s grandmother’s place, and will come back for dinner later that day.  
  
Yuri is excited for the couple of calm hours the two of them will have together.  
  
When Yuri has downed the glass of water he came to downstairs for, he spots a box still in gift wrap (the paper is delicate pink, and the box is a perfect square) next to the pile of presents he opened last night. There’s a simple card on top of the box, and Yuri picks it up. _Happy birthday, Yura_ it says, and Yuri would recognize Otabek’s handwriting even without the nickname.  
  
Otabek said he’d give the present later, and one part of Yuri wants to hurry back upstairs and wake the older boy up so he can have an official permission to open the present. The other part of him - the more curious one - wins, and he puts the card aside and carefully undoes the ribbon and unwraps the box.  
  
When Yuri gets the box out of the pink paper, he needs to stop to make sure he’s not dreaming. He rubs his eyes and pinches himself, but even after that the box has the logo of a luxurious lingerie brand on top of it. With trembling hands Yuri opens the box and holds up the babydoll dress hidden inside.  
  
The dress is the same color as the wrapping paper that was around the box, lace and silk soft under Yuri’s fingertips. The hem has loose folds, and there’s a small, black ribbon where the top part meets the dress.  
  
Yuri knows the creation is worth more than all the other pieces of lingerie stashed in the back of his wardrobe put together. He can tell just from how soft and smooth the silk feels that it must have costed a fortune.  
  
“I just couldn’t leave it in the store after I saw it.” Yuri jumps at Otabek's words - he hadn’t heard him coming down the stairs. There’s a gentle smile on Otabek’s lips when he walks through the kitchen and wraps his arms around Yuri’s waist, pulling his back against his shirtless chest. Yuri is still holding the dress in his hands, unable to look away.  
  
“It must’ve been expensive.”  
  
“Don’t think about that. I wanted you to have it,” Otabek says and presses his dry lips on the junction of Yuri’s neck and shoulder.  
  
“Do you want me to put it on?”  
  
“You don’t have to do anything for me, Yura.” Yuri turns around and meets Otabek’s eyes, his own gaze determined. Otabek’s hands settle on his hips, thumbs brushing over hipbones his ridden up T-shirt exposes. Yuri leans into the touch; leans closer to Otabek’s chest, their mouths so close to each other Yuri more feels than hears how Otabek inhales sharply.  
  
“I want to put it on for you to see. And then you can take it off.”  
  
“Yura, I-”  
  
“Don’t want to make me uncomfortable? Or hurt me?” Yuri pulls back, emerald eyes meeting dark ones. Otabek nods and Yuri sighs, kissing the older boy’s jaw. “You could never. I know I’m safe with you.”  
  
Yuri lets Otabek kiss him, sweet and long, fingers getting tangled in the blond hair. He lets Otabek take him by the wrist (he’s still holding the pink dress, and Otabek doesn’t want to be the one getting it all wrinkled) and lead him back upstairs. Otabek’s bedroom is still warm, blanket tossed to the side of the bed; Otabek moves it so he can sit in the middle of the bed and watch Yuri take off his shirt and slip into the silk and lace.  
  
The material feels cool against Yuri’s skin, a contrast to Otabek’s warm hands that settle low on his back when he sits astride the older boy’s lap and kisses him. It’s deep and warm and familiar, and Yuri’s breaths come out in heavy gasps when Otabek puts his mouth on his neck, tongue flat over his pulse point. Yuri can feel Otabek getting hard under him and it eases his anxieties, calming down his frantically beating heart: he wants Otabek as much as Otabek wants him.  
  
(Maybe it’s good they didn’t do this earlier and ended up going through what they did, because Yuri thinks it’s not always just the thought that counts. Sometimes you have to _do_ something to make the other realize it’s worth it.)  
  
Otabek is careful when he pushes Yuri down on the bed, so gentle in his movements that Yuri has to fight against the need to kick him. Instead he tells him he’s not made of glass, that he has beared worse. Otabek laughs, trying to hide how he’s still hurt that Yuri is hurt, and Yuri kisses his smile, telling him he has nothing to worry about; that Yuri wants this - wants _him_ \- and he knows Otabek would rather die than make him feel pain.  
  
Otabek’s fingertips run up and down on Yuri’s inner thighs while he kisses the younger boy’s collarbones; his chest, his stomach, his hips. Otabek is slow and calculating in the purest way possible and Yuri appreciates it, but not because he’s scared he needs to ask Otabek to stop. Only because he wants to treasure every second, wants to feel enough to kill the painful memories.  
  
It’s different to lie under Otabek than Oscar. This time Yuri has to close his eyes because the sensations are too much, not because the pain is getting overwhelming. He slides his hands into his dark hair, and instead of choked sobs he moans out sighs of pleasure (and for the first time it doesn’t hurt, because Otabek would never hurt Yuri. They trust each other so much it fills Yuri’s chest with indescribable affection he tries to get out by whispering _I love you_ over and over again, and Otabek answers _you’re safe now_ to him because he understands).  
  
Otabek never undresses Yuri from the pink silk, and when they’re tangled with each other in the afterglow, Yuri kissing away the saltiness of Otabek’s tears (made of relief and love; longing and respect; gratitude and indebtedness) from his cheeks, he realizes they both have finally found back home.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://sleepyams.tumblr.com/)


End file.
